


just you and me (within these walls)

by kadtherine



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: A bit of angsty stuff I guess, Big Brother Phillip, Cutesy stuff, F/M, Fluff, How Do I Tag This, Idiots in Love, Mentions of other characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 07:52:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13542996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kadtherine/pseuds/kadtherine
Summary: Phillip Carlyle's an enigma Anne can't seem to resolve. She doesn't whether she's frustrated or fascinated by it.





	just you and me (within these walls)

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't expect to love this movie as much i did, despite all the good reviews i've heard, but i did ! I actually cried and don't usually cry when watching a movie - that's a lie, it depends on the movie. Anyway, the point is : i loved it and love the relationship that is CarWheeler, hence this fanfiction. 
> 
> I hope you'll like it ! Enjoy :)

Anne got out of the washrooms, feeling refreshed and revigorated as she dried her hair. Sundays were the longest days, seeing as they performed twice, they barely had the time to breathe or have lunch between the two. Seeing as she needn’t rehearse for the evening performance, Anne was grateful she had the time to shower and rinse the sweat of her hair. The Wheeler had been the main matinee act, which meant that the spotlight would focus on an other performance - possible Charles’ elephant riding or Cynthia’s impressing snake charming - later on this day. Anne felt a small smile growing on her face as she remembered the awed faces of children and parents alike, watching soar and twirl through the air. She had smirked at their gasps when she had been free-falling, gasps which were quickly followed by sighs of relief and cheers when W.D had effortlessly caught her before bringing her to the floor and joining her for the bows. She remembered how children had rushed to her after the show, while they had been biding farewell to their audience, and bombarded her with questions, wondering what it felt like to fly. Their parents had stood behind them, the same expression of wonder and pure joy as she somehow convinced W.D to bring the elephants closer, allowing the children to feed peanuts to them.

 

Anne wasn’t oblivious, nor was she stupid. She had still heard the protestors’ furious cries out of the museum, her smile never flattering as P.T and O'Malley rushed past her, frowning. Gloria had lifted onto her back, using only her trump and the protestors’ voices had died down, drowned by the chidlren’s laughter and cheers. They had eventually left with a wave, smile and a promise to come back. Promise that hadn’t been denied by the adults and Anne felt herself hoping. Maybe things were changing. Maybe they were slowly making progress. But then, she had seen one woman sneer and the protestors had gotten louder. Anne wasn’t oblivious, nor was she stupid. She knew that hope didn’t mean anything. She knew that if they had seen the curly brown hair she hid beneath her flamboyant pink wig, they wouldn’t have been as mesmerized. If they had seen the scars on her back, they would have grabbed their children and ran away with no promises of ever coming back. Maybe they’d let out a slur, send her a glare above their shoulders.

 

Sighing, Anne drapped her towel around her neck and shook knots of her hair, combing through it with her fingers. With a frown, she brought up under her nose and took a sniff. While the shampoo had cleaned and rid her hair of the smell of sweat, Anne caught a whiff of peanuts mixed with coco. She didn’t mind it. It smelled of home. And yet, the first thing Anne did when she walked into the room she shared with Lettie, and Cynthia, was grab the flower-sented hair lotion, pumping some in her hand before she put it in her hair, massaging her scalp as she ran her fingers through her curls. Wiping her greasy hands on her towel, Anne took it off her neck,threw it in a waste basket and grabbed a brush, running it through her hair a few times before putting it up in a messy bun. She, then, covered her arms and face with cocoa butter, nodding to herself as she caught her reflection in the dirty wall mirror.

 

Anne heard loud laughs coming from downstairs and felt her heart soar at the noise. Only months ago, W.D was the only family she had. He was the only family she needed, to be honest. When they had first joined the Barnum Circus and its compagny of Oddities, both had been weary, keeping to themselves when they weren’t needed or their presence wasn’t requested by the Showman himself. When Prince Constantine had kissed her hand, a teasing smile on his face as he bowed to her as if she were a lady, Anne first thought he was mocking her. It was only when she watched him do the same with the rest of the women of the troup - earning a snort from Lettie and giggles from the Barnum girls -, oozing charm with each words, Anne realized that he wasn’t. Anne also realized that while Charles’ humor was self-deprecating and slightly dark, he was good compagny and could manage to improve anyone’s mood with a clever quip. She also learned that the Irish Giant was anything but gentle and that Walter was one affectionate fellow, hugging her each time her feet touch the floor while praising her performance. Lettie always had wise opinions to give and a contagious laugh. The one who had surprised her was Barnum, a child stuck in an adult’s body mesmerized by every small wonder. He’d join them during downtimes, bring his girls during rehearsal and play some tune on the piano while Lettie sang and Caroline practised her ballet routine, Charity often joining in the fun. W.D and Anne had joined the circus out of necessity and had stayed out of love.

 

Anne grabbed a shawl off her bed and drapped it over her shoulders, closing the door behind her as she walked out of her room. Over the ledge of the balcony, she could see that most, if not all of the performers was gathered around the rink while P.T and Charity stood in the background, amusement shining in their eyes. Following their gazes, Anne found the source of their entertainment. Phillip Carlyle. Reknown playwright. New York’s most eligible bachelor. The Barnum Circus’ newest addition. He was inside of the rink, riding an monocycle in circles while juggling with three balls, his sleeves rolled back to his elbow. Caroline and Helen stood around him, cheering him on while the rest egged him on, trying to get him to lose his concentration. He didn’t pay attention to any of them, his tongue sticking out of his mouth and his eyes on the balls flying around him. Anne found herself unable to look away from him as she slowly walked down the stairs.

 

She didn’t know what to make of Phillip Carlyle. Unlike Barnum, he obviously had an aristocratic upbringing. He also had a successful career and had made a name for himself in the New York elite. And yet, he had left it all behind and joined the circus, ruining his reputation in the process. He had been here for a week and stuck to P.T’s side for the most part, keeping an eye on their finances and attending rehearsals when the older man did. If not, Carlyle kept to himself, locked in his office with his flask for only compagny. Lettie seemed to like him well enough while W.D downright despised him. When asked why, he’d always retort something about the way that he’d look at Anne. That would be her cue for the latter to act oblivious, wrapping her hands while ignoring the looks sent her way. W.D hadn’t be the only noticing Phillip’s looks - frankfully, the person who hadn’t would have to be blind. Anne’d feel his gaze whenever she was in the air or going over her routine with W.D or show new moves to P.T. It was his job, Anne told herself. After all, he was P.T’s apprentice; he’d surely take over some day. And for that to happen, he’d have to be observant, to know the ropes. Anne was the center of looks every single day, whether they be benevolent or harmful. However, while P.T’s eyes were analyzing and focused, while the crowd’s were wide with awe and the protestors’ narrowed with hate, Carlyle’s shone with a light that Anne was unable to identify. It was something that ressembled the fondness she’d find in her brother’s eyes. It was something that ressembled the love in P.T’s eyes whenever he’d look at Charity.

 

 

  
“Oh come on, Carlyle!” Lettie’s booming voice snapped Anne out of her thoughts, “You can do better than that.

 

 

  
The crowd of performers seemed to agree with Lettie’s statements, their screams getting louder. Caroline and Helen joined the cheers, jumping up and down on their feet. Silently walking down the last steps, Anne caught sight of W.D standing apart from the crowd, his arms crossed against his chest as he watched the spectacle enfolding in front of him. Anne went to stand beside him without a word, keeping her focus forward as he looked down at her, adknowleding her presence with a small nudge. From where she was standing, Anne could see the small smirk that appeared on Carlyle’s face.

 

 

  
"Yeah, come on, Carlyle, we’re falling asleep here,” Charles muttered, playing with an apple between his hands, “En-ter-tain us.”

 

 

  
And without a warning, Charles threw the apple toward Carlyle. And without missing a beat, the latter incorporated the flying apple into his juggling act, much to his young admirators’ glee. Charles laughed and pumped a fist in the air as Carlyle kept moving back and forth on his monocycle, his hands still in movement. Anne found herself letting a small chuckle, putting two fingers on her lips to smother the sound. She watched as Helen ran out of the rink, Carlyle mindful of the litte girl, as she passed by him to get to her parents. She tucked on her father’s pants, the latter crouching down so she could whisper in his ear. If the mischievous grin that appeared on his face was anything to go by, both Barnums were up to no good. Giving his youngest daughter a nod, he got back to his feet, got two small oranges out of a fruitbasket behind him and winked when he placed them both in Helen’s hands. Carlyle’s gaze flickered to the small blonde as she walked to him, handing an orange to her sister. Still pedaling, he crouched down, as if preparing himself to receive both new objects. Sure enough, Caroline threw her orange fruit, which he caught without too much complication while Helen threw the fruit for him to catch, which caused him to fumble and almost fall of his monocycle. All cheered when he regained his balance, a small smile on his face.

 

 

 

 

“Hey boss,” Lettie shouted, turning around to face P.T, “you might not have to hire clowns. Pretty sure Carlyle’ll be okay to step in if you asked.

 

 

  
He cocked an eyebrow at her and crossed his arms, grin wide, "I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

 

  
All bursted out in laughter - Anne even caught W.D bite the inside of his cheek to restrain a chuckle - except for Carlyle, the latter throwing a quick glare over his shoulder before focusing back on the flying objects around him. His eyes flickered down to Helen and Caroline and he smiled.

 

 

 

  
“Ready for the grand finale, girls?”

 

 

 

He chuckled as they cheered and began drumming against their laps - and Anne’s heart might have skipped a beat at the unfamiliar sound - before he licked his lips and blew out a breath. Steadying his monocycle, oblivious to the others frantically tapping against the outside of the rink in a drumroll-like rythm, Carlyle threw all of his balls, one after the other. Time seemed to slow down as Anne watched the objects fall back on around him, stretching out his left - muscled - arm to catch two balls and one orange before he held out the other, catching the remaining orange and ball. Carlyle tilted his head back, exposing his neck - Anne felt herself unable to look away, her breathing slightly quickening - and focusing his eyes on the falling apple. Time resumed its course as he caught the fruit with his mouth, causing everyone to jump to their feet and applaud. Both Wheelers joined in and Anne caught a small, but, genuine smile on her brother’s face. She nudged his side, watching as Carlyle took a bow, his mouth and hands full.

 

 

  
“I thought you didn’t like the guy,” Anne muttered to her brother out of the corner of her mouth.

 

  
W.D stopped clapping as the cheering gradually died down and shrugged, “I guess he’s starting to grow on me. Like a fungus. A bit like you, actually.”

 

 

  
W.D pinched her nose with two of his fingers, causing Anne to swat his hand away and poke his side in retaliation. P.T clapped a couple of times, calling all attention to him and unknowingly putting an end to the siblings’ spat. Pushing himself off of the pillar he was leaning in, he went to stand next to the circle of performers. Carlyle freed his hands by throwing the balls and oranges to the nearest people before turning his monocycle to face P.T and taking a bite of the apple in his mouth, much to Charles’ dismay.

 

 

  
“You’re given until three to do whatever you want, then we’ll start on rehearsing for tonight’s show. You’ve earned it, this morning was phenomemal,” P.T started a new round of applause and Walter howled, quickly imitated by Helen and Caroline. P.T then turned to O'Malley, “Have the lions been fed yet?”

 

 

 

  
Carlyle tilted his head to the side, as if confused before he turned toward the younger Barnums, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Then, without warning, he grabbed both and gathered them in his arms, earning shrieks from the girls.

 

 

 

  
“I thought that was why those two were here,” he said, maintening his perplexed facade as he tickled, “the fresher the meat is, the better,” he growled, taking a spin around the rink.

 

“Daddy! Mommy! Help!” Helen called as they passed by their parents.

 

  
“Don’t let him feed us to the lions!” Caroline shrieked, a wide grin plastered on her face.

 

 

  
Carlyle frowned and stopped in the middle of the rink, eyeing both girls.

 

 

  
“If we do not feed the lions, they’ll end up snacking on the audience.”

 

  
“Would that be so bad?” P.T muttered, earning a shove from Charity and cackles from the others.

 

 

  
P.T shot her a sheepish grin, lifting a shoulder and Charity responded with an unimpressed raise of eyebrows. He leaned in and Anne took it as her a cue to look away, her cheeks warm as she rubbed the back of her neck. Glancing back to Carlyle, Anne noticed he had allowed Helen to climb onto his shoulders while Caroline was in his back. She didn’t miss the way he kept on a hand wrapped around Helen’s ankle while his other was hooked under Caroline’s knee, securing both of them while he rolled around the rink. Here was another thing about Phillip Carlyle : he cared when they didn’t expect him to do so. He was playful around the Barnum children, giving piggyback rides after late performances, despite his exhaustion, and keeping sweets in his pockets, just in case. He also listened attentively and patiently to the performers’ issues whenever they’d come to him.

 

As if feeling her stare on the three of them, Helen snapped her head toward her and her smile widened as she straightened, bouncing on Carlyle’s shoulders. Anne stifled a grimace when he almost toppled backward at the sudden movement, tightening his hold around both girls. None of them seemed to be bothered by it, Caroline peeking over her shoulder to wave at Anne. Carlyle followed their gazes, his eyes widening when he caught sight of her. She cleared her throat and tried for a smile, slowly walking toward the rink.

 

 

 

“Heya monkeys!” Anne greeted them, exchanging a high five with Caroline and Helen before her gaze flickered to him, “Mr Carlyle.”

 

“Miss Wheeler,” he returned with a nod, the corner of his mouth twisted into half a smile, “You’ve been missed.”

 

 

 

  
Anne returned his nod, swallowing the lump in her throat and not letting his words get to her head. She tightened her shawl around her and focused her attention onto the two Barnum girls. Helen was frowning, leaning over and patting his cheeks with her hands - if it bothered him, Carlyle showed absolutely no sign of irritation.

 

 

 

“Why do you call her that?”

 

  
“Because that’s her name,” Carlyle blew on her hair falling on his face, “Like yours is Miss Barnum,” he poked her side and she shrieked, straightening on his shoulders.

 

 

  
A small chuckle escaped her lips as Helen tilted to the side to escape Carlyle’s tickling fingers, almost making them losing their balance. She barely noticed Charity or W.D approach them from either side of her. She looked to her left as she felt someone lightly grabbed her arm, meeting W.D’s dark, unreadable eyes. Anne shrugged as if silently asking *what?*. He sighed and shook his head before letting go of her arm, crossing his arms across his chest as he turned to the rink. Charity stood a few steps next to the siblings, shooting them a smile when she caught their eyes. Annie returned the smile, a small frown on her face as she took note of P.T’s absence and the dispersing group. She had barely noticed the latter slipping away. Also noting O'Malley’s absence, Anne assumed they had both gone to feed the lions.

 

 

 

“Misses Barnum, I’ve come to collect you so we can go and have lunch,” Charity announced,both of the girls’ coats drapped over her arms.

 

  
“But Mommy-” Helen started whining, tipping to the side. If it wasn’t for Carlyle’s hold, she’d have slide off his shoulders.

 

 

Charity cocked an eyebrow at them, putting the end to the whining with a finger, “No whining, Helen Barnum. We have an agreement. Don’t we, Caroline?”

 

 

  
“We do,” Caroline muttered, laying her head on Carlyle’s shoulder. It immediately snapped back up - both Anne and W.D recoiled, wincing - new found enthusiasm shining in her eyes, “We also have an agreement with Phillip. We even shook on it.”

 

 

  
Anne smiled at the furiously nodding Helen, in agreement with her older sister. Charity turned her gaze to Carlyle and rested her fists on her hips. Anne noticed, with amusement, that he had started rolling backward, gulping.

 

 

  
“Oh is that right?”

 

  
“Yep!” Helen chimed in, “He said that if we behave and eat all of our greens, he’ll get us ice cream afterward.”

 

  
“And that he’d join us for lunch,” Caroline added, squeezeing his neck.

 

  
He grimaced, tilting his head to the side, “I’m afraid I did. We shook on it.”

 

 

  
Charity let out a soft laugh at that, her hands falling to her sides.

 

 

  
“Then I believe he’s in the obligation to join us for lunch.”

 

 

 

  
Carlyle gave her a two-finger salute and reached for Helen, picking up off her shoulders and putting her down. He, then, jumped off the monocycle, spinning around for a bit before he set Caroline on her feet, pinching both girls' noses. Charity watched with a fond smile as both girls hung onto his hands before she turned to the siblings.

 

 

 

  
“Would you two like to join us for lunch?”

 

  
“Thank you, Mrs Barnum but we wouldn’t want to impose,” W.D answered, his hands crossed behind his back.

 

  
“Oh you wouldn’t, and please,” she placed both of her hands on their arms, her touch strangely comforting, “Call me Charity.”

 

 

 

  
In each of the interactions they shared, Charity Barnum lived up to her name. She’d come around the museum every now and then, Caroline and Helen trailing behind her like little ducklings dressed in pink coats. Anne hadn’t tried to engage contact with her or the girls, believing that she was only here to visit her husband. It wasn’t her place to do so - do not talk with you’re not talked to - and Anne didn’t want to be the reason W.D and herself ended up on the streets once again. She had been surprised when Charity had approached the rink, taking the time to introduce herself and her daughters instead of running up and into P.T’s office. She had shown interest in each of their responses, showing genuine curiosity in the art of trapeze and knife throwing while Caroline and Helen wandered through the small circus, smiles on their faces and stars in their eyes. Though she had been raised in an aristocratic household, Charity knew to give kindness to any and every one, no matter their upbringing.

 

Still, Anne found herself wondering : would she had invite them along for lunch if the invitation hadn’t been extended to Carlyle first? She ignored the voice in the back of her mind, repeating yes and grabbed W.D’s elbow. The latter’s mouth snapped shut as he looked down at her, a confused frown plastered on his face. Anne gave an - almost - imperceptible shake of her head and turned back to Charity, plastering a smile on her face.

 

 

 

“We’ve already eaten,” Anne answered, ignoring W.D’s pointed stared, “And we’ll have to check on the animals before this evening show,” she threw her look at her brother from the corner of her eye.

 

“Right,” W.D narrowed, clearing his throat before he flashed a smile, “I should go and check on the lions, relieve your husband so you all can’t go to lunch. But thank you for the offer.”

 

  
“Of course,” Charity nodded, giving his hand a squeeze as he took his leave, not without a look in her direction, “Another time, perhaps,” Charity added, her voice soft and her smile genuine.

 

 

 

Anne pursed her lips, swallowing the guilt she suddenly felt, and gave the older woman a nod. Once again, Charity put her hand on her arm - and Anne found herself marveling at the softness of her palm - and gave it a small squeeze. She, then, held a hand out toward the rink and her daughters.

 

 

 

“Come on, girls. Let Phillip get ready so you’ll be able to have your ice cream.”

 

 

 

They both let go of Carlyle’s hands and rushed to their mother’s side, skipping as they made the way out of the circus. Anne returned their waves and smiles as they passed her by. Turning to face the rink, she quickly noticed that the area was empty, except for Carlyle and herself, the other performers busying themselves with various tasks. Carlyle grabbed the monocycle off the floor and placed it in a cart by the main rink, pulling on his sleeves before he picked anything that littered off the floor and put in their respectives places. Anne almost laughed at that, the bourgeois boy picking up behind the freaks and oddities kept hidden from the rest of society. Nibbling on her bottom lip, she took her hair out of bun and let her wet curls fall around her face, running her fingers through it as she stepped into the rink. She used his obliviousness to her advantage and observed him. To her annoyance, he seemed to be completely at ease, as if he had been born into it. He didn’t hesitate to kneel in the sand and pick up after others without a complaint. The enigma that was Phillip Carlyle got more intricated, complex each time she’d catch a glimpse of him. And Anne didn’t know whether it was annoying or refreshing.

 

Carlyle looked up, his wide blue eyes finding hers instantly, and Anne had to remind herself to keep walking - she had to remind herself to keep breathing. She brushed a curl away from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

 

 

 

“Hi there,” he straightened, dusting off his hands on his pants.

 

“Hello,” Anne adjusted the shawl around herself, throwing a look over her shoulder to where Caroline and Helen previously stood, “Those girls adore you.”

 

 

  
He let out a chuckle and ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck. Anne couldn’t contain her amusement when she noticed the red tips of his ears. He scratched his head and sighed, looking back at her with a lopsided grin.

 

 

“They seem to be quite taken with you too. With good reasons,” Carlyle added, both of his eyebrows up.

 

 

Anne felt a smile grow on her face, mirroring the grin on Carlyle’s. She was the one who ducked her head that time, running her fingers through her hair. She bit her lip, trying to contain her smile as she looked back up. Anne lifted a shoulder.

 

 

 

“They’re good kids.

 

  
"That they are,” Carlyle agreed with a nod, his grin impossible wide.

 

 

  
Anne tilted her head to the side, her gaze locked into his as a silence fell onto the two. She knew she should probably look away first, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. There was something about those eyes. Those earnest, clear blue eyes who made her want to spill all of her secrets and ignore anything else. Those eyes which had seemed to get even clearer throughout the time he had spent among them, less guarded. Anne had that thought, that maybe if she stared into these eyes enough, she’d be be able to figure him out. Anne couldn’t contain her victorious smile when Carlyle was the first one to look away, clearing his throat as he buttoned the cufflinks on his sleeves and adjusted his collar.

 

 

  
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Carlyle started, grabbing his scarf and coat off the floor, dusting both items off, “but you haven’t had lunch yet. I mean, you were up while the rest of the troop was eating, so I just assumed,” he shrugged, wrapping his scarf around his neck.

 

 

Anne frowned at that, walking further into the rink. She didn’t know he had heard her conversation with Charity, believing him too busy with Caroline and Helen to pay attention. She hadn’t expected him to notice she hadn’t had lunch either.

 

 

  
“I’m not hungry right now. I’ll make sure to eat something before tonight’s show if that’s what you’re worried about, Mr Carlyle.”

 

 

 

After all, they couldn’t have one of their main acts losing consciousness during their performance. His hands froze over the lapels of his coat for a second and a frown replaced his previous grin. He cleared his throat again and stuffed his hands on his pockets.

 

 

 

“It’s not- that. I was just wondering if I was the reason you declined Charity’s invitation. I mean-” Carlyle closed his eyes when seeing her frown, mistaking her confusion for hurt, “I don’t want my presence too make uncomfortable. I-”

 

  
“You’re not,” Anne interrupted, taking a step closer. She smiled when faced with his perplexed expression, “Making me uncomfortable, I mean.”

 

 

  
And as the words left her mouth, she found herself meaning them. She watched as his frown and uncertainity melted as he let out a sigh of relief, a small smile on his face. He ran his fingers through his hair, looking around for his top hat. Anne found herself doing the same thing, catching sight of said item set on the side of the rink. As she went to reach for it, Anne felt Carlyle’s fingers brush her hands and wasn’t able to swallow her gasp at the touch. Neither withdrew their hands first, relishing in the contact. Looking back at Carlyle, Anne restrained the urge to recoil back when noticing the close proximity between the two, drowning once again in those blue eyes. Anne could feel his breath on her face, the fresh scent of mint replacing the usual smell of whiskey. He blinked and Anne snapped out of her trance, putting a bit of distance between the two, playing with his hat between her fingers and hoping that the goosebumps on her arms were only visible to her. Carlyle ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. He ducked down his head and Anne could swear that his eyes had gotten darker in a matter of seconds. Her hold tightened around the hat, the back of her neck suddenly warm. He cleared his throat and turned back to her, his hands clenched into fists by his side.

 

 

 

“I’m glad, then. Another time, perhaps ?” Carlyle echoed Charity’s previous words, his tone slightly hopeful.

 

 

  
Anne grinned at him and in a moment of playfulness - of carelessness - dusted dirt off the top hat before she put it on his head. Carlyle pushed it back with his hand and cocked an eyebrow at her, awaiting her answer.

 

 

“Another time,” she said, with a nod.

 

 

His grin got impossible wide as he returned her nod, rocking back and forth on his heels. Anne heard the laughter and loud voices of the rest of the troop upstairs as they moved back and forth on the higher floors. Her grin slowly vanished as she was reminded of the presence of others, her previous carefree attitute being replaced by her usual wariness. Carlyle seemed to notice her change in behaviour and took a step closer, ready to open his mouth. They both jumped when hearing the doors being pushed open with a loud bang.

 

 

  
“Ph'lip !” Helen barged in, Caroline in tow “Are you ready to go, we’re hungry!”

 

 

Anne laughed at that, shaking her head at the two’s eagerness.

 

 

 

“I’m afraid I’ve been summoned,” Carlyle sighed, earning a small smile from her, “I’ll see you later, Anne.”

 

  
“I’ll be right here, Mr Carlyle,” she said.

 

  
“Phillip,” he retorted, tipping his hat at her.

 

 

He didn’t let her the time to respond or protest, brushing past her to get out of the rink - Anne didn’t hold her breath as she caught a whiff of his cologne, she did not - and to the girl. She watched as he grabbed both girls’ hands and twirled them under his arms, earning giggles and shrieks of joy as they walked out. Anne groaned, scratching the back of her head. Her mama had also warned her about men with charm and wealth. She had never been taught about kind, blue-eyed men. She was given no warning about Phillip Carlyle.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're reading this, it means that you got through this fic and i love you very much for it ! Please, please, puh-lease : don't forget to leave a comment, it literaly means the world to me and makes me day a thousand times better. 
> 
> You can also follow me on tumblr, @oreosmunroe : we get crazy - be we, i mean me :P 
> 
> Until next time, you gorgeous people,  
> Kadi.


End file.
